


The Means of Belief

by InTheShadows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Creepy Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood), Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Jack Frost Has Friends (Guardians of Childhood), Jack Frost Needs a Hug (Guardians of Childhood), Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter Friendship, Luna Lovegood Being Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, Protective Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood), or at least now he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: When Jack heard someone talking in the Forbidden Forest he never expected them to be talking to him. He never thought that, after so long of trying, that someone who finally see him so easily. Or that that one meeting would end up changing everything.ft Luna being Luna, Jack being Jack, Pitch being creepy yet protective and Harry being there just for the ride (and maybe something a little bit more)
Relationships: Jack Frost & Pitch Black, Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood) & Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood & Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood) & Harry Potter
Comments: 39
Kudos: 639





	1. Luna & Jack

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this scene in my head for months now. Why? Who knows. All I know is that the thought of Jack and Luna kept meeting in the Forbidden Forest would not leave me alone. As per usual it kind of got out of hand from there. (Hey, at least it didn't go from a 10k story to 47k. That's a plus right?) (Yes this did happen once. Still upset.)

“Is it comfortable up in that tree?” 

Jack doesn’t react to the question when he hears it. Why would he? It’s not as if she could be talking to him after all. No one talks to him. No one can see him. It’s been centuries - over two hundred years, closer to three hundred - and he has yet to find a person who can see him. So he doesn’t react. 

“Oh, you aren’t wearing shoes either. I dislike shoes - even when the nargles don’t steal them I don’t like wearing them. It’s easier for the earth to speak to you without them you know.” 

At that he glances down out of curiosity. Who is she talking to? He is out in the middle of what is called the Forbidden Forest. No students are supposed to be out here. Not that that stops them by any means. If anything the name is more of an invitation than a warning. It is for Jack. 

But when he looks down she is looking straight at him. It sends a chill through him that has nothing to do with the weather. He is a winter spirit after all. The cold is his thing, right along with the snow he can form with a mere thought and the wind he can talk to. But her pale blue eyes seem to go right through him. Like she sees him and more. 

She appears to look at him expectantly, as if waiting for an answer. The ever dreaded, but ever present hope bubbles up in him. Every time, every time it seems as if someone can finally see him, it rears up. No matter how much it hurts, it always comes back. Hope is funny like that. 

So it’s no real surprise when he finds himself asking, “Are you talking to me?” 

“Who else would I be talking to?” she asks, “There isn’t anyone else around - not even the fizzabees.” 

Jack - well he has no idea what a fizzabee is, but he doesn’t care. He jumps down from his branch, hardly daring to believe it. “You can - you can  _ see me _ ?!” 

She nods, smiling. “Hello.” 

Jack lets out a whoop of joy, letting the wind pick him up. It spins him round and round the girl. She sees him. She  _ sees him _ . After all these centuries, finally someone who sees him. He couldn’t keep from grinning wildly if he tried. 

She watches him calmly, waiting until he lands back in front of her. “You must be lonely,” she says solemnly, “I know what that is like. Not many people talk to me either. But it’s gotten better this year. I have friends.” Her smile is bright and happy. 

There’s something both terribly sad and terribly innocent about that. Jack can relate. “No one has talked to me since the Man in the Moon told me my name.” Not really talked anyways, not taken the time to stop and introduce themselves. Or get to know him. He knows there are others around - Santa, the Easter Kangaroo, the Sandman, the Tooth Fairy and her tiny minions, minor and major names all. But they have never bothered with him, even when he did see them. 

“My name is Luna Lovegood,” she holds out her hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jack. Jack Frost,” he stutters over in excitement. He is still vibrating with joy. This seems almost too good to be true. 

“Jack Frost nipping at my nose?” 

He laughs. “More like Jack Frost giving you a massive snow storm.” 

“Oh, yes, that sounds nice. Scotland is the perfect place for that. You must like it here.” 

He nods. Scotland is a great place to be in winter. All the northern countries are. They expect the snow he brings. Instead of cursing it they accept it and go on through it. Not all, but their kind of winter is always his favorite. And he can admit that he likes it here for another reason. The magic. He loves the magic of the school, the way it fills the air and brings life to everything around it. It’s a wonder. 

“Would you like to meet the thestrals?” Luna asks, “I was on my way there now. Sophia just birthed her new foal last week.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Jack agrees quickly, before she can change her mind. Before she can leave. He would have agreed to just about anything to spend more time with Luna right now. He isn’t ready to go back to being invisible, not yet. Not so soon. He has no idea what a thestral is either, but that doesn’t matter. 

She leads the way through the winding path clearly made by animal and not human feet. Jack follows, swinging his staff as he walks - or rather skips - along. His happiness is probably bordering on obnoxious, but he doesn’t care. It feels as if he can barely contain the joy inside of him. Like it is just waiting to burst out into the air around them. 

Luna hums as she walks, a nonsensical tune. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but it fits the mood. They step around the next turn and stop at a clearing filled with - well, thestrals obviously. Jack steps back in surprise. Sure he has seen some surprising things in his near three hundred years, but these - these are. Well. He’s seen them before of course, but never close up. 

Luna continues on without hesitation. Jack shakes off his surprise and follows. Around him the skeletal horses take notice, snorting and whining. They lift their heads, white eyes watching. He has to wonder if they can see him too or not. 

“Hello Sophia,” Luna greets one of them, stroking the leathery skin of its - her - nose, “I brought you a new friend to meet.” 

Jack walks over to join her. Carefully he holds out a hand. Sophia snorts into it before nudging it. Well that answers that then. Slowly he pets her nose. Her skin is cold under his hand, just like his skin. One less worry then. He’d hate to make her too cold. 

“And this is Marcus,” Luna says, gently petting a foal hidden almost under Sophia’s wing. 

Marcus prances out to meet him bold as you please. Jack laughs and introduces himself. Marcus snorts, approves and then moves on to play. Jack watches with a grin. 

“Thestrals are misunderstood creatures,” Luna tells him as they watch, “Only those that have seen death can see them. People tend to shun anything too close to death. They think that it makes it bad.” She pets another thestral that came over to greet her. She smiles. “But they are such sweet things.” 

Jack freezes - pun unintended - when he hears, but he forces himself to relax. Forces himself not to think about the death he has seen. The death he has inevitably caused. Winter may be fun, but it is not always safe. He never means for anything to happen, but it does anyways. No matter how he tries to prevent it, it always does. 

He tries not to think about it because once he begins he can’t seem to stop. He begins to wonder if that means he is bad. Accident or not, his storms have caused death before. If the reason he is like this is some kind of punishment. If he doesn’t deserve to be ignored, shunned, after all. Tries not to because then his control over the weather really slips. Sinking too far into his dark emotions is what causes the worst of his storms. The most deadly of blizzards. 

He startles when he feels a hand slip into his. “Death comes to everyone,” she says, still looking at the herd around them, “That doesn’t mean you should be afraid of it. There are some things that are out of our control, no matter how we wish otherwise.” 

Jack swallows and nods. He turns his attention outward again. Having Luna’s hand in his helps. It grounds him to the here and now. Laughter bubbles up again as he watches Marcus play with some of the other youngsters. They are chasing the wind as if they can see it. Who knows, they probably can. They can see Jack after all. 

He itches to join in. He doesn’t - not right away at least. But he can’t resist for long, so he goes, dragging Luna along with him. She follows easily with a laugh. They dance and spin and fly. Jack lifts her off of the ground with him and twirls them around. Their laughter fills the clearing. Jack’s joy finally spills over. He focuses on the here and now, enjoying every second of this. 

An indeterminable amount of time later - both too short and forever - they collapse on their backs on the ground. Jack’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He can’t remember the last time he smiled so much. Maybe never. Above them the sky is barely visible through the branches. 

“It’s almost supper time,” Luna announces, getting up. 

Suddenly there is a lump in Jack’s throat. He swallows his pleads for her to stay. Not to leave him. Not to abandon him like everyone else has. He has no right. She is a student, alive. She can hardly stay in the forest forever. 

She seems to hear him anyways because she smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I enjoy spending time in the forest. It’s very peaceful here. And no one else really keeps the thestrals company besides Hagrid. They aren’t his only responsibilities though. They need someone else as well.” 

Jack has once seen a colony of man eating spiders attack and devour what looked like some kind of large lion creature. Peaceful is not how he would describe it at all. Still it is reassuring to know that she will be back. Even if it is only for the thestrals, she  _ will _ be back. 

“Maybe next time I can bring a friend too. Harry could use some more. Especially now. The nargles are bothering him even more then me. I suspect there are others at work as well. Maybe even a three eyed jackalburs. Those are among the most deadly of all.” 

Once again Jack has no idea what she is talking about, but he doesn’t mind. “Great,” he agrees. He has his doubts that this Harry will be able to see him, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe another miracle will happen. He never expected Luna now did he? 

She smiles. “Goodbye Jack Frost. I will be seeing you soon.” She waves and skips off, back to the castle. 

Jack grins. That didn’t sound like a promise - that sounded like a guarantee. He takes to the sky, shouting with glee. 


	2. Luna & Jack & Harry (oh my)

“Where are we going?” Harry asks as Luna leads them through the forest. Not that he really cares. As long as it is away from the castle. Away from the whispers and the rumours and Umbridge and everything else. Hogwarts is slowly turning into a nightmare for him. It’s been bad other years, but this might be the worst of them all. At least when everyone turned their backs on him before, there was no quill that made him write in his own blood. 

“To the thestrals of course,” Luna answers, “And to meet a new friend. He should be close by. I think he is afraid to leave for too long. I won’t forget or ignore him, but he can’t seem to convince himself of that.” 

Harry shrugs at that. If he’s learned one thing since becoming Luna’s friend is that there is a method to her madness. Not that he thinks she is mad. Or crazy. No matter what the others say, Luna has a logic to everything she does. It may not always make sense, but it’s there. He also suspects that she sees things that others do not. She might be the most honest person he knows. 

And he must not tell lies after all. 

He pushes the thought away. He is here to forget about that, if only for a little while. He might start screaming if not. That will really give the papers something to write about. As if they don’t have enough already. Between the Daily Prophet, Umbridge, the students and Voldemort - well. Some time away from it all is only the beginning of what he needs. 

When they enter the clearing he can’t help the small, but real, smile that forms. The thestrals all come over to greet Luna, showering her with their brand of affection. It is clear how much they adore her. She returns their greetings and affections happily. She laughs as they all surround her, demanding attention. None of them pay him much mind, but he doesn’t care. 

Luna has truly been a blessing this year. She, more than almost anyone, has helped him keep his sanity. Or what’s left of it. The strange girl that everyone dismisses, the odd one. There is just something about her that draws him in. He would say she was god sent, if he believed in a higher power. Which he doesn’t. He’s far too cynical for that. And it’s not as if the Druselys ever raised him in any kind of faith either. Why bother? Freaks don’t go to heaven. 

But he hardly wants to think about the Dursleys either, so he does his best to dismiss the thought. Instead he focuses on Luna and her herd. Because it is her’s, no matter what anyone else says. It only takes a glance around to see that. The herd is Luna’s and Luna is one of the herd. 

A chill fills the air and he shivers. Burr. The weather has been getting colder with autumn ending and winter soon beginning. That wind is carrying snow and ice with it. Then he stops, pauses, concentrating. There is something about this breeze. Something - familiar. Or not familiar, but similar enough to be so. The kind of magic that no one at Hogwarts can teach. 

Luna turns and smiles. “Hello Jack,” she greets happily, “I’ve finally brought Harry along.” 

Harry frowns and stares at the place where Luna is talking. He can almost make something out. Something - he squints, trying to see better. Almost - a snowball hits him square in the face, knocking him backwards. “Hey! Careful with my glasses,” he complains. They’ve been broken enough as if. Merlin he cannot wait until he is away from the Drusleys and finally able to get new ones. 

He takes them off to rub his eyes. When he puts them back on he sees a boy in front of him, rubbing his head sheepishly. 

“Sorry?” he asks more than says. 

They look like they are about the same age, but there is also an air about him. One that says he is more than he appears. That, even more than his white hair or clothing, says that he isn’t human. Absently he notes the lack of shoes with amusement. Just what Luna needs - more encouragement not to wear hers. He just sighs, too tired to make more of a fuss over it. “It’s alright.” 

The boy - Jack - frowns. “Are you okay? Normally my snowballs have a better effect on people.” 

Harry gives a twisted smile. Is he okay? That’s a good one. Really the best he’s heard all week. Is he okay? Ha! “I’ve always been told I’m different.” The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. All he’s ever wanted to be was just Harry and that’s the one thing he will never be. 

Jack’s frown deepens. “Oh,” he says helplessly, as if he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Three eyed jackalburs,” Luna nods as if that means anything. 

Jack looks just as confused as Harry does, which makes him feel better. 

He tries to smile again. “Hello,” he greets, “I’m Harry Potter.” It’s odd, actually having to introduce himself. Normally people know him on sight. 

“Oh,” Jack repeats, eyes lightening up in recognition, “I’ve heard your name before. People like to talk about you - quite a bit actually.” 

Great, even  _ he  _ has heard about him. 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “I’m Jack Frost.” A smile begins to creep onto his face. “You can - you can see me too? That easily? Without any help? How?” 

Jack Frost. So he is real too, along with all of the others. How interesting. He shrugs. “You’re not the first spirit I’ve met. I’ve - talked - to another.” 

“Really?” Jack asks, bouncing slightly, “You have? Who is it? Can you maybe introduce us? No one seems to want to spend time with me even when they see me.”

Harry thinks of his dark shadow and all that he has done for him. He thinks of his reputation and his nature and his unconventional support. About what he does - what he is made to do and what he chooses to do - and shakes his head. “I’m not sure the two of you would get along.” 

“Why?” 

Harry pauses, thinking of the best way to explain without giving anything away. “His... social skills aren’t the best,” he settles on. 

That doesn’t put Jack off in the least. “I don’t mind.” 

Harry’s mouth twitches. “No, but he might.” He can’t really see this being appreciated if he does. There is a reason he sticks to the shadows after all. Jack - Jack seems much too in the light for Pitch’s taste. Then again that’s not too hard to be. Pitch can be both creepy as hell and strangely protective. It doesn’t really make much sense, but Harry owes him too much to question it. Not - excessively anyways. Telling him not to question something is like trying to stop the earth from spinning. He has an ingrained need to know certain things. How else is he supposed to survive? 

Jack, well there’s really no other way to describe it, pouts. “He’s one of  _ those _ people?” 

“Kind of?” Not exactly, not like Jack is probably thinking, but at the same time, he isn’t exactly far off either. He’s complicated like that - likely on purpose too. Fit everyone’s expectations and go against them, just because he can. 

“Oh,” Luna exclaims suddenly, interrupting and startling them both, “that’s why you have the dark energy around you sometimes,” she nods, “Yes. I thought it was the humdingers at work, but it is really something else.” 

And there she goes again. Harry is pretty sure she makes up more than half of these names on purpose. She has to be. There is no way she believes all of these creatures are real. Then again, they could be, just not in the way she means. Nargles aren’t after all. Harry has figured out exactly what  _ they _ are code for. Why not everything else? It’s the best theory he has. 

That or she enjoys confusing and confounding people far too much. That’s a high possibility as well. Maybe it’s both. Honestly that wouldn’t surprise him in the least. It fits her far too well. 

So he just nods in response. “Yeah, he’s - like that.” 

“Dark?” Jack sounds vaguely worried, but also curious. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but not in a bad way. Like,” he pauses, trying to explain it in a way that will make sense. He’s not always the best at that, “how the shadows can hide you from the monsters. They can’t get to you if they can’t find you.” 

Jack nods, clearly thinking that over. 

Luna gives him a far too knowing look. “People like things to match, even when they don’t.” Given that she is wearing two different earrings and socks today, the comment is appropriate. And not just for her wardrobe choice either. 

Jack looks like he understands then, although he doesn’t look too happy about it. He shakes his head and then begins to bounce again. “Okay, right. But do you want to play?” 

Harry would snort at that, but Jack is completely serious. And honestly, a little fun right now is just what he needs. 

And that is how Harry finds himself running through the forest with Luna and Jack Frost, playing tag and laughing wildly. Yet another myth, come to life. He can’t even be surprised by now. For once, it ends up being a good one. Most of the time it is the opposite. Best take it while he can because things never have a way of staying when he is involved. 

Him and his sheer dumb luck. 


	3. Harry & Pitch

It is late at night, long past curfew, when Harry gets up to wander the halls. No one is out besides him. When he checked the map the only ones who were out were the ghosts. Everyone else had long given up and went to their own beds. Another nightmare had woken him up and he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. It’s the way his life is now - have a nightmare, toss and turn uselessly for a bit, get up and wander the halls when he inevitably can’t fall back asleep. And that’s when he can fall asleep to begin with. 

The Sandman’s magic has never worked for him - if it ever reached him at all. Even as a child he had trouble sleeping. Maybe it is based on belief? But surely he can’t be the only one out there who doesn’t believe? Are all nonbelievers insomniacs? Something to think about. 

Although maybe nonbeliever isn’t the correct term. It’s not as if he doesn’t know of his existence, he just doesn’t - put much stock in his powers. That’s the best way to put it, he supposes. Like Santa Clause - he exists, but do you think Harry has the least bit of faith in  _ him _ ? Not a spec. 

Thinking of that though has him thinking about the newest person Luna introduced him to. Leave it to Luna to be the one to see Jack without any prompting. If anyone could it would be her. It is just what he needed too. Lately everything has been piling and piling onto him until he thinks he could scream. Having some fun, being able to laugh and play like that without worry, is  _ exactly _ what he needed. Another think Luna is good at knowing. 

Jack himself is pretty interesting too. Lonely. That’s something he could tell right away without being told. It’s in the way he looks at Luna. In the way he interacts with them, so focused and intent as if every moment matters. Harry can relate all too well. After all how lonely was he before he came to Hogwarts? How lonely and isolated does he feel every summer when he is forced to go back to the Drusleys? Where only one person ever gave a damn about him and it isn’t any of his so called family either. 

He sticks to the abandoned part of the castle automatically. Even without the risk of running into anyone it’s still where he likes to go. The places that no one else explores. The spots that everyone has forgotten about. It’s peaceful there. Quiet. The only sounds are his footsteps softly against the stone floors and his breathing. Nothing else. It as if he is the only person left in the castle. Comforting thought at times, especially when everything is going to hell. But then again when isn’t it? It has been one thing after another after another since he first started attending. 

He shakes that thought free, not wanting it to linger. His troubles follow him everywhere else. He doesn’t want them following him here too. Now is the time to relax. Or at least try to. Maybe, one day, if he is able to enough than he’ll finally be able to go back to sleep. It hasn’t worked yet, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. There’s nothing worse than staring at your canopy, desperately wishing for sleep, but knowing you won’t be getting any. 

Well, okay, there are worse things, but how many other people have to deal with that? In normal circumstances, with no crazy dark lords or anything else, there isn’t much worse. It’s only when exceptions come in that it changes. Bitterly he snorts. Exceptions. His life  _ is _ an exception. Everything that happens to him, everything he goes through and endures is an exception from everyone else. All he’s ever wanted to be was ‘just Harry’ and all he’s ever done is stand out since coming here. 

He lets out a sigh as he realizes that his thoughts have turned again right where he doesn’t want them to. No thinking about it. Not right now. Think about Jack instead. He should be able to hold his attention, he’s new and interesting enough. 

Jack Frost. There is one he’s never knew existed before. He thought he had or at least the main ones. Maybe that’s why. Maybe Jack is only a side spirit, a mere winter sprite. How many people would pay attention to him when there are others just like him? That doesn’t feel right though. He doesn’t know why, but something is telling him that Jack is no mere anything. So why is he so isolated? Why doesn’t he have anyone else? 

They are the same in that way. It took Harry eleven years to find friends. People to call his own. To learn that he was actually worth something. Is it going to be the same with Jack? Is he hidden away for some reason that no one but a mysterious and vague old man knows about? Kept hidden and out of the way until he is needed? 

Alright so he is definitely projecting here, but that doesn’t make the question any less valid. Why is Jack so alone when he feels so important. Maybe it’s Harry just projecting again. Maybe it’s because he likes Jack, identifies with him. He still doesn’t believe that though. 

A chill runs up his spine. Goosebumps form on his skin as a familiar darkness makes itself known. Harry turns to finds the darkest shadows and tells it, “Boo.” 

An eerie laugh echoes through the hall, causing another chill to run up his spine. It is as if his body still hasn’t gotten the message that his mind already knows. He is safe. 

“Must you do that all the time?” he complains. 

A figure melts out of the shadows. “Yes I must,” Pitch tells him, looking him over with sharp golden eyes, “after all I am the Boogeyman. I -”

“am supposed to be creepy,” Harry finishes for him, grinning. He’s heard the same thing how many times by now? That still doesn’t stop him from teasing though. Or Pitch from repeating it. 

“Hmm,” Pitch stares down at him, seemingly displeased, “someone is bold tonight I see.” He leans closer. “And just what, pray tell have you been up to now? You have the most - interesting - energy clinging to you. So light.” 

Harry’s grin doesn’t dim in the slightest. “I’m always bold,” he answers, “that’s what happens when you aren’t scary anymore. I know you’re soft underneath.” 

Pitch scowls fiercely. “Brat.” 

Harry just laughs. “I met someone new. Why didn’t you ever tell me that Jack Frost is real?” 

“Jack Frost?” Pitch asks, “Is he truly? I assure you it was not intentional. I had no idea that the story had grown powerful enough to manifest a spirit.” 

Harry frowns at that. “That can happen?” 

“Indeed that is how many of the spirits you know of have come into existence. Just as we need belief to live and thrive, there are some that need to belief to form at all. Otherwise they are mere ideas unformed in people’s minds.” 

“Oh.” He had never realized that before. Of course he knew belief was important, but he never realized it was  _ that _ important. “I don’t think that’s what happened here,” he shakes his head, trying to put his thoughts into words, “He’s too... different,” he settles on, “Too solid? Formed? Yet too lonely. He’s too excited to have someone to talk to.” 

Now Pitch looks truly intrigued. “Is that so? That would account for the energy. No ordinary spirit should be able to have that much of an affect on you. What do you believe he is then?” 

“How should I know?” There is a slight sneer to Harry’s voice that he doesn’t mean add, but it comes out anyways. 

“Do not take that tone of voice with me.” 

Harry scowls, annoyed because of the scolding and because it’s not Pitch he is so frustrated with to begin with. He doesn’t want to take out his mood on him. Roughly he runs a hand through his hair. Why is everything he does so wrong lately? 

Pitch sighs and comes over to fix the mess he made. If that is possible. Harry’s hair is never neat, no matter what he does. Pitch’s fingers are gentle as he soothes it down. “Easy now.” 

“Easy for you to say,” he huffs, but can feel something in him ease at the touch. “Sorry,” he mutters. 

“You must control that temper of yours,” Pitch chides, but there is no sting to it, “Although I do know how hard that is when bodies and minds are still growing. As well that strange darkness is still entwining with you.” 

“Have you been able to find anything out?” It’s been a worry ever since Pitch first sensed it and told him about it. Just the idea is enough to make him panic. Maybe Pitch shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, but that is not his way. Who knew the Boogeyman could be so protective - caring and kind almost - and yet so very practical at the same time? 

“No,” Pitch sounds less than happy about this, “I have not. It is dark magic I am dealing with, yet I cannot find the source of it.” 

Self consciously Harry reaches up and rubs at his scar. He has a sinking feeling he knows the exact source. Isn’t Voldemort at the center of most things in his life? 

“Yes,” Pitch answers the motion, “but that still does not tell me enough. That man has enough darkness around him to combat enough the most terrifying and cruel of Fearlings. Although,” he adds thoughtfully, “it would appear that Jack Frost is somehow powerful enough to combat that same energy. You are correct, no ordinary spirit should be able to do that. It would seem that Jack Frost is a cause worth looking into as well.” 

Harry has to bite back a smile at the idea of those two meeting. Oh Pitch has no idea what he is walking into. Nor does Harry try to warn him. “He’ll like that,” is all he says. 

Pitch nods, clearly still deep in thought. “I will leave you now. Do at least attempt to sleep some more tonight. No nightmare will plague you more if you are able.” 

Harry nods, beyond grateful, yet not able to say anything. One of many, surprising, perks of having the Boogeyman watching over you. He can keep the nightmares away, even those that he doesn’t send. As Pitch always says, the mind is either his greatest ally or greatest enemy when it comes to dreams. 

Pitch smooths his hair one last time before stepping away. “Pleasant dreams,” he wishes, smiling sharply before he melts back into the shadows. 

Harry shakes his head as he heads back to the Tower. That is one thing Pitch doesn’t have - a good sense of humour. Still it makes him laugh. Pleasant dreams. Right. Well here’s to hoping anyways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is confused/wondering, this briefly touches on my headcanon that Pitch is the protector of abused children.


	4. Pitch & Jack

It does not take long for Pitch to track down Jack Frost after his conversation with Harry. It’s not as if it is terribly difficult after all. All he needs to do is simply follow that particular trail of energy that he seems to leave behind. It seems impossible that he missed it before, now that he is looking for it. Although yes, he had been vaguely aware of it. He had just never fully grasped it’s importance before. Now though.

He follows the trail straight into the heart of the Forbidden Forest. The setting amuses him greatly. Such a light spirit, here? This is somewhere that Pitch himself would be right at home in. The shadows surround him welcomingly. The darkness embraces him. Truly this is his kind of location. The further he goes, the more the shadows welcome him. Just what creature is this light spirit that he would feel comfortable here?

He gets his answer when he arrives at the edge of a clearing. There, in the center, sprawled out on the ground, is the winter spirit. With pale skin and white hair he looks more like a child himself. A teen at the very most. The image is not helped by the unicorn laying next to him. Such innocents. And yet - Pitch cocks his head. Yes, there it is. Such power. Harry was more right then he could possibly know. This Jack Frost is no mere anything. Pitch knows that power well. 

Just what is the old man up to now?

The unicorn stands and rears, obviously sensing him. When he makes no other move, it neighs in warning and runs off, back into the shadows. That is enough to alarm Jack Frost as well. He stands, staff in hand, at the ready. “Who’s there?” he calls. 

Pitch does not answer, analyzing the situation. 

“I know you’re there,” he says and stares intently at where Pitch is standing. He shouldn’t be able to see him, not cloaked in the shadows as he is, yet he obviously senses something. “Show yourself.” 

For all that Jack Frost sounds brave, there is still a thread of fear running through him. Enough to make him cautious, but not enough to make him retreat. Interesting. Pitch appreciates, more than ever, Scotland’s cloudy sky as he steps out. “Your pardon. I did not mean to startle you or your companion.”

Jack Frost stares boldly at him. “Who are you?” 

“I am Pitch Black,” he bows with a flourish, “although I am sure that you are more familiar with the Boogeyman.” 

It’s even more interesting to note that the fear he senses does not grow, but shifts. It’s not for himself so much as the children. And there, in the middle, is worry for two very specific children in particular. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands. 

“I could ask you the same, but since you inquired so nicely,” Pitch flashes him a sharp smile, “I am here to introduce myself to you.” 

That is obviously not what Jack Frost was expecting. The surprise and suspicion are clear on his face. Obviously this boy had been hurt before. “What? Why? What do you want from me?” 

“It has recently been brought to my attention that you do indeed exist outside of the minds of mortals. It is only polite to come and welcome you into existence.” Among other things. 

Jack Frost gives him a hard, long look. “Of course I’m real. I know that I’m not a ghost, or, or, something else. I’m here aren’t I?” His words are sharp, defensive, “Besides you’re almost three hundred years too late.” 

Almost three hundred - Pitch narrows his eyes. “I see.” When Harry had mentioned that Jack Frost seemed lonely he had not been expecting, well,  _ this _ . As the mortals say, the plot thickens. “Your pardon again, but I had no idea that one such as yourself was around.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Jack Frost continues to demand, “Who sent you? Why the interest now? What do you  _ want _ ?” The last comes out as a growl.

That won’t do. Pitch is not here to alienate him further. “If you would allow me to answer those out of order, it is Harry who -” 

“Harry?” Jack Frost’s entire demeanor changes, “Harry Potter? You’re the one he’s friends with?” 

Well then. That is obviously what Pitch should have started off with. Although he would not describe his relationship with Harry as friends, he does not explain the exact nature of it. “Yes.” 

“So, like, he told you about me? And then you came to see me?” He begins to bounce on his feet, a smile stretching across his face. 

“Indeed.” So little to make him so happy. Three hundred years. Had he been alone that entire time? 

“Awesome,” Jack Frost’s grin is wide enough to almost crack his face. “So what did you mean by all that other stuff? Can you stay and talk? What -”

“If I may,” Pitch cuts him off, “I would be happy to make your acquaintance further, only I would as that we do so in a more,” he glances at the sky, “covered location. Something else I will be happy to explain as well.” 

A flicker of suspicion crosses Jack Frost’s face, but he dismisses it. Oh yes, it is not mere passive neglect that he has experienced. Someone has hurt him. “Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?” 

“Merely somewhere that is less open. There is no need to even leave the Forest. You may choose the place if you would like.” 

That is clearly the right move because Jack Frost nods and grins. “Yeah, okay, I know the place.” He leads them to a corner of the forest that, while not completely dark, is more shadows then not. “This good?” he asks when they arrive, excitement and suspicion still intermixing. He leans his weight on his staff, watching Pitch with wide eyes. 

“It is acceptable,” Pitch nods, “Now to begin with I would start by explaining there are different ways that we as spirits may come about - some are molded by the minds of mortals. Their belief becomes so powerful that they form the spirit themselves. Others, mostly elementals, are under the rule of Mother Nature. She is the one who creates and guides those of her realm. And then there are those of us that are not made, but born. Circumstances vary, but they are not dependent on belief to survive. Those are the most powerful of the spirits.”

Jack Frost has a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re one of the last ones aren’t you.” 

“Indeed.” Pitch is much satisfied that Jack Frost figured that out with no prompting. The boy is smart. “As are you.” 

“Wh- what?” he stutters, “Me? No, that’s not - what?” 

“Tell me Jack Frost, has the Man in the Moon ever spoken to you before?” 

“Just to tell me my name.” He looks back at Pitch, wide eyes and disbelief. 

Oh.  _ Oh _ did he now? But of course so. The old man is playing a longer game than he realized. “Nothing else?” 

Jack Frost shakes his head. “No. Nothing. I’ve asked. I’ve asked - a lot. I’ve - I’ve tried everything, but he’s never said anything else to me. No matter what.” Pitch carefully reigns in his temper as he continues, “And he’s not the only one. People don’t see me. Ever. I’ve tried, but they walk right through me. No one has until Luna and Harry. They’re the first.” 

All this time. Three hundred years alone. No wonder. A lonely and lost boy. A hurt, discarded child. Pitch may have a reputation as a nightmare bringer, as a cold hearted being of fear - and he is. That was his first purpose. But since then he has given himself a new one. A different one, just as important, if not more so. 

Protector. It is not something one associates with the Boogeyman, but he is. To certain children he is just that. To Harry and countless others, heartbreaking cases all. His heart may be cold, but that does not mean he has one at all. 

And now it would appear that Jack Frost is one of those children as well. Different yes, because he is a spirit. Because that is not all there is to him. Because what he needs right now more than anything is acknowledgement. Nonetheless. 

“And you don’t like being out in the open because?” 

“Let us say for now that the Man in the Moon and I have a... complicated relationship. One with far too much history. It would take too long to explain to you now without the proper background knowledge.” 

“Okay, yeah. But,” he says less than convincingly and then bites his lip, “um - Okay. So wait,” he frowns, “if I’m like you then who -” he does not finish the question. There is hesitation on his part that speaks, not of confusion, but of not wanting his suspicion confirmed. 

“The Man in the Moon,” Pitch answers anyways because he has never been one to shy away from hard truths. Nor does he allow others to do the same. “I recognized his power as soon as I saw you. There is no doubt that he brought you to life. For what purpose I do not know, though,” he answers the next obvious question. 

“You mean he didn’t just give me my name. He gave me  _ life _ ? And then he just - left me alone? Abandoned me?” His tone grows more upset with each question. “ _ Why _ ?” 

“I do not know,” Pitch repeats, “Many regard him as a wise old man, but that does not mean that he always makes sense. Or that his motives are always clear. Or pure. He has given you power and light. Such light - or maybe,” he pauses in thought, “Your light is the reason you are alive now. But beyond that I do not know.” 

“Right.” Jack Frost gives a firm nod. “Right. So,” he hesitates, “what now? Are you going to stick around? Do you have time to, to talk, or, or maybe play some? Can we hang out some more? You’re not, like, too busy to are you? Because I’ve met some other spirits that are always too busy. Or they find me annoying. Or they have no sense of humour. Or, well, whatever. But you’re here now, so you don’t mind do you?” His words pick up speed, as does both his fear of abandonment and hope. Pitch does not have to be Aster to sense the latter. 

“Yes, I will be available to spend more time with you.” 

“Really?” Jack Frost grins. 

“I just said so, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow at him. 

Jack Frost throws himself at him, hugging him tightly. 

Pitch... really should have seen that one coming. He really should have. Simply because the majority of the world sees him as a monster does not mean all of it does. 

“Great.” Jack Frost grins up at him, “ _ great _ . So do you want to play now? What do you like to do? Where you do like to hang out? Is the whole shadow thing because you like being creepy or what? Oh, do you know how to get into Santa’s workshop? Because I’ve been trying for  _ years _ now, but I’ve never been able to. Bet with you it’d be easy. And what about...” he continues to babble on excitedly. 

Oh yes, Pitch intends to keep a close eye on this particular spirit. He’ll have to thank Harry for his coming lack of peace later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I have a little too much fun comparing some of these characters to each other? Yeah, a little bit.


End file.
